CHAPTER SIX
Aisha barely slept that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the fear on her mother's face when she asked about her father. Grace had always been careful whenever the subject came up, but this time, her reaction had been different.
It was as though Aisha had asked a question she was never supposed to ask.
By seven the next morning, Aisha had made up her mind.
She was going to get answers.
She found her mother in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Grace looked tired, and the moment she noticed Aisha standing in the doorway, her hands slowed.
"Good morning, darling."
"Good morning, Mum. We need to talk."
Grace sighed. "Aisha, please. Not again."
"Yes, again. I'm tired of being told that some things are better left in the past. It's my past too, and I deserve to know the truth."
Her mother placed the spoon on the counter.
"What exactly do you want to know?"
"Everything about my father. Who was he? What happened between you two? And why do you look frightened whenever I ask questions about him?"
Grace lowered her eyes.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Your father was a good man," she began quietly. "At least, that's what I believed when I first met him."
Aisha sat opposite her.
"What was his name?"
"Samuel."
The name meant nothing to Aisha. She searched her memory, trying to remember whether her mother had ever mentioned it before.
"How did you meet?"
Grace gave a faint smile.
"We met when I was much younger. I was working at a small company in Lagos, and he came there to deliver some documents. We started talking, and before long, we became close."
"What happened to him?"
Her mother's smile disappeared.
"Life happened."
"Mum."
Grace looked at her daughter, her eyes filling with sadness.
"Your father died when you were very young. That's what I've always told you, and I believed you were too little to understand anything more."
"But you never told me how he died."
"Because it was painful."
Aisha reached across the table.
"I'm not asking because I want to hurt you. I just want to know where I come from."
Grace looked at their joined hands.
"There are things about that time I still don't understand myself."
"What things?"
Before Grace could answer, her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and immediately stood.
"I need to take this."
Aisha watched her leave the kitchen.
It was happening again. Every time they came close to an answer, something interrupted them.
This time, however, Aisha wasn't going to let the conversation end there.
Later that afternoon, she returned home early. Her mother was in the living room, folding laundry when Aisha approached her.
"Mum, I'm not going to stop asking."
Grace placed the clothes aside.
"I know."
"Then please tell me the truth."
Her mother stared at her for a long moment before speaking.
"Samuel wasn't the only man in my life when I was young."
Aisha frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Before I met Samuel, I knew someone else. Someone from a very wealthy family. His name was Richard Williams."
Aisha's heart skipped.
Richard Williams.
She knew that name. Everyone who followed business news in Lagos knew it. He was a successful businessman who owned several companies and frequently appeared in newspapers.
But what did he have to do with her mother?
"How did you know him?"
"We met through mutual friends. We were close for a while, but his family never approved of me. They thought I wasn't good enough for him."
Grace paused, swallowing hard.
"Eventually, we separated. I met Samuel afterward, and I believed I had finally found peace."
Aisha stared at her mother.
"Are you saying Richard Williams was someone you loved?"
Grace nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"Then why have you never mentioned him?"
"Because I wanted to move on."
Aisha's thoughts raced.
"Did Richard know about me?"
Her mother's face tightened.
"I don't know what he knows."
It was the first time Grace had admitted that she didn't have all the answers.
Aisha leaned forward.
"Mum, is it possible that Richard is my father?"
Grace immediately shook her head.
"No. Don't jump to conclusions."
"But you just said you were close to him."
"That doesn't mean he was your father."
"Then why are you so afraid to talk about him?"
Grace stood and walked toward the window.
"Because that part of my life brought me more pain than you can imagine."
Aisha followed her.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No," Grace whispered. "Not in the way you're thinking."
She turned around, and Aisha saw tears gathering in her eyes.
"His family made choices that changed my life. Choices I have spent years trying to forget."
"What choices?"
Grace shook her head.
"I'm sorry, darling. I can't tell you everything today."
Aisha's frustration returned.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not ready."
Aisha wanted to argue, but something in her mother's expression stopped her.
For the first time, she realized that the truth might hurt Grace just as much as it could change her own life.
She took a deep breath.
"Okay. But promise me you won't lie to me again."
Grace reached for her hand.
"I promise I'll try to tell you what I can."
It wasn't the answer Aisha wanted, but it was the closest thing to progress she had received.
That evening, Aisha sat alone in her bedroom, thinking about everything she had learned.
Richard Williams. Samuel. Her mother's hidden past.
She opened her laptop and searched for Richard Williams.
Photographs appeared on the screen. One showed him standing outside a luxury hotel, surrounded by business associates.
Aisha studied his face.
There was something familiar about him, although she couldn't explain what it was.
She clicked on another photograph.
This time, Richard was standing beside a young woman at what appeared to be a formal event.
Aisha leaned closer.
The woman was Grace.
Her mother looked much younger, but there was no mistaking her face.
Aisha's heart began to pound.
Why had her mother never told her that she knew such a powerful man?
She saved the photograph and sat back.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
Stop asking questions about your mother's past. Some truths will destroy the people you love.
Aisha read it twice.
Then another message arrived.
If you value your mother's happiness, leave Richard Williams alone.
A cold feeling settled in her stomach.
Someone knew what she had been asking.
Someone was watching her.
Aisha slowly locked her phone and looked toward the bedroom door.
For the first time, she understood that her mother's silence might not be about shame or heartbreak alone.
It might be about fear.
And whatever had happened years ago, someone was determined to make sure the truth stayed buried.